


Blank N°5

by NatashaPatPat



Category: Sicario (Movies)
Genre: F/M, fuck if i know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaPatPat/pseuds/NatashaPatPat
Summary: Benicio Del Toro had no reason to be this fine... (PS I don't believe that Alejandro is a gentle lover if you can go so far to even call him that. Fight me.)
Relationships: Alejandro Gillick/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Blank N°5

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a disgruntled essential worker. There was nothing else for me to do, but to watch this film in whatever free time that hasn't been ruined by a sleep schedule or lack thereof. Thanks, COVID-19, I guess...

You know. These things don’t happen quite out of the blue. No. No such luck. There are the minute incidents or happenstances if you will. Ignored, but what has the subconscious ever missed?

You didn’t know when it happened—on your back, breathless, sweat marring your brow, a potential bruise or two on their way. 

“Stay down.” There was something in his eyes... It’s where you belong. 

Weight shifted. 

So did his. Thighs encompassing your waist. “Are you done?” 

In defeat, realization hits. There was no winning. 

He got up, not so much as to offer a hand. “That will be all for today.” 

The room was alive again in hushed tones.

That nauseating blue of the safety mats blurred as you scurried away, an arm clinging at your stomach and the other horridly failing to keep the bile at bay. Vomit spewed through your trembling fingers. Small chunks of the undigested gathered in a sink. Your reflection looked odd in the dirty mirror. Was this excitement? 

The second time, now this strike, in particular, it really got his attention. Again you were winded, the bullet indentations on your LBV were at closer range than anticipated. You didn’t think he’d shoot you. Spurred on the need to prove worth (or so you tell yourself), your antics almost cost the team their mission. It’s sound to say that you’ve lost this pissing contest. 

A knee connected to your abdomen, knocking whatever shit stained idea you still had in that pretty little head of yours. He waited until you got up, and for that, you spat on his boot. A punch to the jaw sure did rock your world. Doubled over in pain, fingers wrapped around at the base of your neck. “Don’t ever point your weapon at me again.” 

Your gasps couldn’t reach your lungs fast enough. Gargling on blood and lack of oxygen, a strained hiss passed through rattling teeth, “Fuck you. Sir.” 

Muscles tensed as his hand continued to squeeze. After some moments, he shook you loose, “Get back out there.” 

He left you on hands and knees. Spit and blood dripped on the dirt floor. The warmth that was on your face started to gather between your legs.

Thee last straw, by Meritus admittance, was an unforeseen curveball. There were footfalls in your apartment, slow and unbothered, a dining room chair was being moved. An exhale of smoke, and there goes your fucking night. Maybe this was an attitude adjustment you thought as you came into your living room. “Never one for manners?” 

The chair groaned as he leaned back. “Security isn’t necessarily your thing.” 

Arms folded, “What do you want, Alejandro?” Just look at the balls on you. Already on a first name basis. What’s a junior FBI agent to a seasoned spook anyway? 

“Sit.” He took out a letter, placing it carefully on the table. 

Straining to get the gist of...like hell you were signing. Whatever higher bureaucratic powers saw fit to rain on your parade without so much of a courtesy to call it piss, this was not to be had. “I’m not signing that. You’re not going to continue to use me as your legal fucking scapegoat.” 

“Sit. I won’t ask again.” 

Your eyes darted to the handgun you just finished cleaning not too long ago. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

Then it’s a good thing he wasn’t. You dove anyway, crashing to the floor, safety off. The aim was sorely thrown off as he shoved your arms upwards. The scuffle didn’t last quite long. As the mag fell with a muted thud, you were underneath him again, right cheek pressed into the carpet and wrists trapped beneath his strong grasp. 

“Always so fucking difficult.” 

Breaths came out in puffs. 

“Aren’t you going to be a good little agent?” 

Somehow, you misunderstood all of what was said and your mind began to wonder. Remembering just how good it felt with his thighs around you. If only he knew the nights you had to furiously masturbate just to get him out of your head. 

He pressed down into you, bringing you back to the fact you were in wife beaters and shorts. 

This time a moan got out. It was soft, yet audible. A fucking masochistic bitch in heat.

Alejandro paused, not quite taken aback, but reassessing. 

The thumping in your ears was too loud. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me.” 

His lips grazed your ears. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” 

Nodding, unable to find sufficient words. 

“Last chance.” He turned you over, making eye contact. 

“Ruin me.” This was your home run. 

Not bothering to move into the bedroom, the man possessed thought the floor would do. He ripped the thin vest, mouth descending on hardened nipples. The pants were next to go. He slid into you with ease. You wanted to be embarrassed at how wet and welcoming you were. But this wasn’t the time. Your nails digging into his back. Alejandro moved to your neck, sinking his teeth into supple flesh with no abandonment. 

God yes. You wanted this. A man quite possibly 20-30 years your superior, you wanted no needed for him to show you your place, on your back with legs wide open. 

He grunted loudly in your ear. You were close, this he knew.

In this line of work, you grew and understood the concept of having no close contacts. Already well versed in the realms of divorce, it wasn’t necessary to be loved. That, of course, spelled danger. 

Alejandro’s fingers played your clit like a fiddle. Like clockwork, you tightened around him. “Fuck!”

Pulling out, he jerked himself to completion on whatever body party caught it. 

You watched as the last of his spurts landed on your stomach, shivering in your sensitivity and loss of heat.

Ripping you from cloud nine, you felt him grip at the roots of your hair. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’re going to...” waiting on you to finish.

“Sign.” The tossed pen making the task easier. When had he gotten dressed? 

Tucking the piece of parchment away into his breast pocket, making his way to the front door. “All you had to do was ask.”


End file.
